The moon in her eyes.
Stars in her hair.
Velvet midnight gown
Worn without care.
The universe, a ribbon
Shining in her locks.
The sun, a gold pendant
To adorn her frocks.
The planets, mere baubles
To dangle from ears
That tune to the sound
Of thundering tears.
Lips of dark crimson,
Stained with fire.
Her kiss is true bliss,
Every heart's desire.
Her voice in a whisper
Cause the worlds to quake.
Yet Her touch as gentle
As the falling snowflake.
No mystery witheld
From her all seeing eyes.
No creature unknown
To the Mother of the Wise.
Her soul is pure light.
Her heart a bright flame.
Her dreams are creation.
The winds hers to tame.
She is fire, She is earth,
She is sea, She is air.
She is guardian of the ages,
Their knowledge laid bare.
She is the child, the Mother,
The ancient, wise crone.
The teacher, the mentor,
The great Spirit's own.
She is the music of silence.
She is all that is free.
She is the past and the present.
She is the future to be.
She is the fury of vengeance,
She is the mercy of the mild.
She is my voice within
And I am her child.

... Moone

Copyright © Dwareniel Moone